


Wrong Answer

by flordecai



Series: It's a New-U, Tannis [2]
Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Other, Patrica Tannis and the slag knife, The torture begins, handsome jack tortures to get his own way, it's New-U
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-10-12 12:26:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10490865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flordecai/pseuds/flordecai
Summary: Patricia Tannis has always been haunted by the memory of when Handsome Jack and Wilhelm torture her for information on the Vault Key. As she documents her thoughts in ECHO Log 378, she has flashbacks to when Jack takes the Key from her- along a few of her fingers, too.





	

I am not sure what hurts more, Wilhelm’s robotic arm pinning my neck to the dusty ground or the aching in my entire body from being completely body slammed to the earth by a robot. Not that it makes a difference, but I would rather prefer to know which one causes more damage to the human body. With Pandora’s gravitational pull being far more-

“Now, sweetums, pumpkin, pretty insane woman in the goggles, I am only going to ask one more time .” The man moved to my left, his motion of ease and carefree attitude he seemed to possess in any situation. Wearing those shoes in a dessert was just irresponsible, no wonder he had lackeys to do all of his bidding, he could never do it himself, what with shoes like th- “Where the hell is the damn Vault Key?” My eyes flicker to his face, calculating carefully the next words to leave my lips.

I know this man very well, yet this is my first official meeting with him- Handsome Jack.

A man who is known infamously among those in Sanctuary, Handsome Jack became the President of Hyperion after murdering his former boss. He currently had his sights set at controlling Pandora by drilling for Eridium and opening another Vault on the planet. But his reign is not easily accepted by those who have moved to Pandora, especially the Crimson Raiders who resist continuously against this man. Why they fight a man who has so many resources is beyond my thought process, but currently, I have an answer to give and one I know instantly I will regret.

“I am unsure I should share this information with you of all people on this dry planet.” I answer, my mouth dry and tasting of dirt. It is only a matter of seconds before I hear an odd, slick cutting noise. My eyes following Jack’s motions a fraction of a second too late as splitting pain erupts in my hand, my pointer finger suddenly numb, unable to move. He has either dismembered the digit, dislocated it or...

“Now, that little piggy made a mistake.” He laughs, tossing the digit into the sand, tapping my nose as he smiles. “I know you’re supposed to play this game with your toes, but that isn’t an easy access point right now, is it, pumpkin? The fingers are much more damaging.” The man laughs, patting Wilhelm’s robotic body. “Darling, you only have nine more fingers, I hope you’ll answer me this time- a-a-and in a manner I would approve of, ‘kay?”

I stare at him in stunned silence, my hand burning in splitting pain, twitching as I try in pathetic agony to move the finger that had been removed. Rationally, I understand the digit is no longer there, I know this and I know the nearest New-U Station would regenerate my body in perfect condition based on my DNA given to the system when I first arrived on Pandora. I know this, and yet, panic fills me rapidly like a flood- the pain, the fear, the agony is all too real and the raw emotion is not a thing I am accustomed to experiencing. Never before have I experienced fear, pure, raw fear- sure, I’ve researched and investigated the emotion before but not first hand.

I had asked the first group of Vault Hunters what fear meant to them- I remember their responses were varying in scenarios, but the main concept was still similar among all of them. Heart pounding, a natural reaction to an action or event that causes a sense of knowing one’s mortality and fearing death.

Lilith feared dying a virgin and her friends dying before her (I have reason to suspect her first response was jokingly, not meant to be a serious response).

Roland was fearful of Jack opening the Vault and his weapons being misused.

Brick feared bees and showering.

Mordecai feared Bloodwing dying and his alcohol stash being found by Roland (and subsequently thrown out).

The original four had told me- before they opened the first Vault- that they feared being too late and not being able to open the Vault themselves, which I found interesting at the time and thus used to conduct a follow up study, to see which fears had changed.

Roland was the only one genuinely afraid of Jack at the time. Lilith dismissed him as scum and assumed he would be killed off eventually by the Resistance or by her- whichever came first. Brick and Mordecai held no comment on the man, mostly because the two led separate lives apart from the Resistance. No, that was a lie… Brick swore that he’d kill the Hyperion scum in a manner far worse than what he had done to someone named Fluffy- I hadn’t cared much to ask who this Fluffy was, to be frank. Mordecai still remained the only one to be unresponsive to Jack- mainly because he was too drunk by the end of our study to answer.

Being lost in my own thoughts was a task I easily allowed myself, finding I would come to what answer my brilliant mind desired to find when it decided it was time. Jack, on the other hand, was not pleased with my process in the slightest- could it be he misunderstood me to be rude? I do not know, but he was growing ever more impatient the longer I took to give an answer. There had been a reason for my remembering that fear study, otherwise I would not have thought of it. I rarely have meaningless thoughts, I am, after all, a brilliant scientist.

“Sweet cheeks, I’m afraid you’re out of time.” He sighed, clicking his tongue as he walked to the other side of me, twirling something I couldn’t see from my position under Wilhelm whose pressure on my torso was relentless. “This little piggy stayed silent too long…” That was when I recognized the object could only be one thing- a knife. And the coloring and smell only fit one category- a slag knife.

Never publicly released due to Hyperion refusal to share anymore technology with the people of Pandora than what was absolutely necessary (I had done secret, unknown research into rumors of this type of weapon), a slag knife held similar capabilities a slag rifle or pistol or shotgun held- it dealt damage with slag poisoning chance ever increasing the more direct the hit. Slag poisoning only occurred should the slag be able to get into the bloodstream, very difficult for a rifle or a pistol to achieve, but easily done with a more direct method of a knife. Hyperion most likely tested them on the people they took in to conduct slag research on, like Tiny Tina and her family.

The pain was excruciating, much worse than when he had taken off my pointer finger on my right hand. This time, it was my thumb and I knew he had done so on purpose, not a whim as he had before, because after hacking it off he took the serrated blade and stabbed it through my hand, leaving it there to keep my hand and arm in place. The stinging of the slag was an odd sensation, one I had never suspected with the chemical.

When you see slag, it has purple steam or fog arising from it so your natural belief is it is burning hot, to the point of scalding. But as I stared at my gloved hand, a cooling sensation rippled slowly through my hand, eventually to the point I was shivering under the robotic arm that kept me on the ground. If it hadn’t hurt so badly, I would have been fascinated at the side effects and would want to log as much as I could before treating myself appropriately. However, the pain made any record I wished to keep inevitably impossible. The cooling sensation not shifted to a prickling stabbing effect, like tiny insects were within my blood veins and were on a mission to stab everything in their path to my heart. A scream arose in my throat, but was silenced as Wilhelm pressed against my windpipe, causing a gasp and muffled gurgle to erupt instead of the blood curdling scream my body wished to release.

“I’ve been developing this beauty since I first discovered slag was a viable weapon.” Jack’s voice, now distant as he circled where I lay, his hand patting Wilhelm again as he spoke, his voice cheerful but with a dangerously cold undertone. “See, I wanted to save this for Roland or one of the Crimson Raiders, but…” He crouched next to my face, a hand stroking my paling cheek. “I think using it on you was the right choice.” His breath held the scent of something minty, like the type of toothpaste you use to get the guaranteed minty fresh breath- the ones they advertised only in Hyperion controlled stations or on other less arid and Bandit filled planets. I remember seeing them when I was a child, the taste was sweet and minty, like candy. I ate an entire tube before my mother found me puking the stuff back up. I never touched the stuff since, the smell making me gag involuntarily.

“So, should we try again? Come now, Patty, dear, I don’t have all day- where is it?” Handsome Jack twisted the knife in my left hand, causing me to writhe in agony against Wilhelm’s metal body, gasping desperately for air I was not being given access to. The agony suddenly stopped after several deathly long seconds, the metal pinning me down gone. I had shut my eyes, so any visibility possible I had denied myself until I slowly opened them, sitting up with considerable effort to stare at my captor who sat in one of the chairs I had brought to use for my campsite.

“Now, I’m going to let you think for a bit, just relax and consider what you’re doing. I’m not the bad guy, love, I’m the hero! And really this is all just you resisting my plea for help. I’m willing to trade you, I know the Vault Key doesn't come free, so let me show you what I’m offering.” He nodded to Wilhelm who brought a box- like those ones you find in the Bandits’ hideouts, with weapons or health vials or some amo. “In that box, you’ll find everything you need to conduct impressive research on the alien ruins you were heading out towards. I’m sure you have limited budget, what with rarely getting payment from those rebels you help.”

He wasn’t entirely wrong… Roland, while he had been helpful in sending those willing to work, had never paid well for any of the services I provided the Resistance. It was almost depressing, except, that was the only human contact I was able to gather from others willingly. Should I shut them off and I would never have another conversation with a living being until I was in desperate need of supplies.

I stayed in silent meditation for a long while, searching my brain and thoughts for a response, unsure how to answer. After all, one reason for saying no was not reason enough to disregard the deal entirely.

It was then I realized why I had remembered the fear study I had conducted, not because I was afraid- association was not a valid research study at all nor was it one of my habits- but because I knew the effect Jack held on the planet. Either he was hated or intensely feared and for valid reasons. Experimentation, exploitation, neglect, endangerment, the list could go on of the things Jack had done to large masses of people- but to the individual, it was far worse. Rumors of torturing, rape, dismemberment, horrendous and grotesque murders, there was no limit to what Jack would do to acquire what he desired- control of Pandora. If he desired the Vault, it meant one of two things: either it held resources he knew would destroy any resistance or it held a weapon- a creature- that he would command to destroy the planet. Either way, it meant the death of those I considered… Those I considered important in my life.

I now fully understood the meaning of fearing Jack to the fullest extent.

“I… I cannot accept this trade, it is not beneficial for me in any degree.” The wide smile that had been sliding across his hideous face instantly was replaced with a scowl, a cold, dark and angry scowl that I instantly know meant I had just made a grave mistake.


End file.
